


Broken Things and Butterfly Wings

by Delightful_I_Am



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott, Canon Divergence - Derek is an Alpha, Canon-Typical Violence, Mentioned Allison Argent, Mentioned Vernon Boyd, Other, Pack Family, Post-Season/Series 03B, Pre-Season/Series 04, mentioned Erica Reyes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 00:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8123560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delightful_I_Am/pseuds/Delightful_I_Am
Summary: The pack have lost too much already.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is my first fic. Like, ever. Please be nice, my ego is far too fragile to be crushed so quickly.

Everything was chaos. Wind swirled around the clearing as bodies crashed into each other; werewolves snarling, claws out, as the unknown hunters did their best to decimate the pack. Derek listened to the sounds around him, even as he snapped the neck of one of the hunters that had been aiming a gun at Scott. There was gunpowder and wolfsbane in the air, sickening sounds of bones cracking and throats being ripped out carried on the air, just below the sounds of snarls and growls, and the shouts of humans.

There’s a momentary calm around Derek. The pack is outnumbered, but they’ve held their own thus far. He saw a hunter go down screaming as Kira’s weapon sliced clean through bone and flesh; she swung the blade around, impaling another hunter rushing toward her, knife held high ready to strike. Stiles was swinging his bat, that stupid, impractical bat. The spray of blood when it connected with the jaw of an enraged hunter was almost impressive. Scott was holding another hunter in place while Isaac buried his hands in his chest, a look of cold calculation on his face. Lydia was the calm amongst the storm, a crossbow that had once belonged to Allison held eye-level, bolt after bolt slamming into knees and chests and guts. Derek had to blink, for a second he had seen Allison standing there in place of Lydia, Boyd and Erica at her side. A trick of the light; they were all gone.

He swung an arm up to block a blow from a hunter, snarling as the blade on her knife cut into his forearm. He gripped her by the throat, lifting her off the ground as she struggled to free herself from his grip. His eyes flashed dangerously as she tried to cough out a cry for mercy as Derek’s clawed hands crushed her windpipe, tearing her throat out. He dropped her to the ground, growling as she bled out at his feet, when a sound tore through the air and stopped everything for a moment. Lydia, the banshee, the screaming woman, was screaming now. Never had Derek heard such a heartbroken scream until the sound of Scott howling in pain and anger drowned her out. Derek’s eyes searched for him, only to find him standing, hand outstretched beside Kira. Derek followed the line of his hand, followed it past Isaac, to Stiles. Brave, intelligent, reckless, stupid, _human_ , Stiles. 

A hunter stood, panting, a few feet from Stiles, a crossbow held out pointing at Stiles; pointing _past_ Stiles. Pointing at Scott. Stiles turned slowly, a weak cough forcing itself out of his mouth as he looked down at the bolt, meant for Scott, sticking out of his chest. He dropped to his knees, one hand held to his chest as the other dropped to his side, the bat falling from his grip. The thud of Stiles hitting the ground echoed around the now silent clearing. Scott howled again as he ran to Stiles, Lydia and Kira close behind, the hunter forgotten in their disbelief.

Derek was rooted to the spot. Claws gone. Fangs retracted. He watched numbly as Scott shook Stiles, begging, pleading with him to stay awake, to stay with him. Derek looked up, and locked eyes with the hunter. The man’s eyes were wide, real fear spilling from them, as tangible to Derek as the steadily slowing heartbeat of Stiles. He willed himself to move, willed his feet to carry him toward the man that had just taken the centre of his already broken pack, and ripped it apart. But he couldn’t move. His feet betrayed him and he swayed, putting a hand out to steady himself on a tree. He was still staring into the hunter’s eyes when Isaac, quiet, unassuming Isaac, stalked up behind him, eyes red-rimmed and glistening. He was still staring into the hunter’s eyes as Isaac sank his claws agonisingly slowly into his throat, dragging them across, all but ripping his head off, before he picked up the gasping, choking man, and broke his back, nearly bending the man in two.

Isaac dropped the man, breathing hard, and turned to the group huddled on the ground. Scott was crying into Kira’s neck as Lydia tried desperately to mop up the blood that had already stopped flowing from Stiles’ silent chest. Isaac sank to the ground, hugging his knees to him as he howled out his pain at losing yet another pack mate. Derek finally found his legs able to move and he walked slowly over to them, stepping over the bodies of hunters as he went.

Lydia looked up at him, capable, brilliant Lydia who never admitted to needing help; she looked up at him with eyes overflowing with tears as her hands gripped Stile’s shirt. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t need to, Derek knew what she was asking him. He looked to Scott, only to find glowing red eyes staring back at him, Scott just whispered a single word. Please. Derek lowered himself down beside Stiles and took his cold, slack wrist in his hands. He listened, harder than he had ever listened for anything before, waiting for any sign of life still inside Stiles. The others waited, breaths held, as Derek leaned forward and softly stroked a lock of hair off Stiles’ forehead.

He whispered an apology as he bent down, and, with a prayer to any gods that would listen, slowly sank his teeth into Stiles’ neck as gently as he knew how. He pulled back, anguish clear on his face. He let out a shuddering breath as a minute passed, and then another, and nothing happened. Derek gripped Stiles’ hand tight, willing him to live. He was gripping his hand so tightly that he nearly didn’t feel it. A fluttering, softer than a butterfly’s wings, gently beat out a pattern against his fingers. He held his breath, the others gasping and leaning forward, Isaac cradling Stiles’ head in his lap, tears streaming freely down his face as it happened again. The faintest of heartbeats. Derek stared at Stiles, hardly daring to believe it until it came again, stronger this time and accompanied by a shallow breath that Derek couldn’t be sure was real or just his imagination.

He stared at Stiles, a vice around his heart, as slowly, Stiles’ eyes opened, and they were the most brilliant shade of gold Derek had ever seen.

“Hey Sourwolf.”


End file.
